96 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



was a big, taciturn woman, with a square, determined face 

 and a harsh voice. From the first she looked upon us 

 with suspicion, and she evidently ruled the household 

 with a rod of iron. Even Gerasim Androvitch was 

 afraid of her ; and as for Marusia, she was the slave of 

 her aunt, and obeyed her in everything. In fact it was 

 easy to see that the son and daughter of the house were 

 nothing more than unpaid servants — and hard-working 

 servants at that. 



Although the Prokopchuks were at least as well off 

 as the AntonofFs, their house was neither so well kept 

 nor so comfortable, and the surrounding buildings were 

 damp and dirty. The kitchen opened off the storeroom 

 at the entrance. It was a small room, dark and most 

 evil smelling. One corner was occupied by the bed 

 belonging to the servant, Michael, and his wife and child. 

 The other was filled up by the great oven and cooking 

 stove. The rest of the furniture consisted of a bare 

 table and a few kettles and stools. The remains of 

 meals always stood upon the table, cockroaches swarmed 

 unmolested among the food, and the bed was strewn with 

 pieces of clothing. The bedroom, which also did duty 

 as parlour, was more pretentious, but it was always in 

 disorder. On the blue walls flamed cheap coloured 

 prints of ladies dressed only in a nightdress and a 

 wreath of roses. I once had the curiosity to count these 

 works of art, and as there were nine of them, including 

 one in which the same ladies were masquerading as 

 guardian angels, I suppose this must have been the ideal 

 of female loveliness of Gerasim Androvitch. 



Below the house, on the river bank, stood a row of 



